


Supernatural Drabbles

by A_simple_lee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Tickle Fights, Tickling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: A group of untitled prompted SPN tickle fics I wrote on my tumblr. Enjoy.





	1. "Let the tickle war commence!" - Ticklish!Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sentence-starter prompt from an ask meme. Charlie wants Sam to give her the remote, and inadvertently sparks a full-on tickle fest, commandeered by none other than Gabriel, of course. Includes Ticklish! Kevin, Charlie, Cas, Sam, and Dean.

“Sam, pass the remote. This is boring,” Charlie’s hand reached up from her position next to the sofa and pulled at the hunter’s ankle to get his attention. He smiled fondly at her, but shook his head.  
“Nah, it’s almost finished. Wait.”  
The redhead rolled her eyes.  
“Well, if it’s almost finished, why is it so important for you to see the end?”  
“Uh, because it’s the end?! I wanna see who dies, then we can watch Harry Potter, or somethin’.” Sam’s foot pulled to get out of Charlie’s grip as he shifted position on the couch next to Kevin. The prophet had already moved away from the Winchester slightly, sensing the oncoming chaos.  
“Don’t make me force you, Sam.”  
“Shush. It’s got five minutes left.”  
“But I’ve seen this episode!”  
“You’ve seen every episode, Charlie.” Castiel interjected from the other side of the sofa, leaning in front of Dean so that he was visible to the bickering pair of humans. Of course, his calm observation went unnoticed by the two nerds of the batcave, who had somehow transformed into a tangle of flailing limbs. Charlie had promptly tackled Sam on the couch, wrestling to pin his arms above his head. Sam, however, was not about to give up the remote that easily, and kept one arm outstretched, the black cuboid just out of his opponent’s reach.  
“Like I said, don’t make me force you.” The redhead frowned down at her friend, smirking triumphantly. The younger Winchester rolled his eyes, his arm still keeping the remote out of Charlie’s grasp.  
“Jerk.”  
“Ok, ya know what? That’s it.”  
“Charlie, what are you- no. O-oh, no, no, don’t you dare! HEY!”

A loud yelp caused the rest of the bunker to shoot curious looks at the pair, which quickly turned into amused smiles. The IT girl had started pinching up and down Sam’s sides, causing him to flinch with each touch.  
“I-I swear…a-are you s-suhure you wahanna stahart this? AH! NO! Stahahap!”  
The group watched on, amused, as the resident moose was reduced to childish giggling by the tickling fingers, still adamantly refusing to hand over the remote. Gabriel attempted to ask why he hadn’t been informed of Sam’s ticklishness earlier, but was cut off by an honest-to-chuck squeal as Charlie discovered her victim’s knees.

Dean, however, was already growing bored with the fiasco, and directed his attention towards a potential target instead of his screeching brother.  
“Gabe, is Cas ticklish?”  
“G-Gabriel, I strongly advise that you-“  
“Can it, Casssanova. Yes, Dean-o, your Angel is extremely ticklish. You can thank me later.”  
Suddenly the trench-coated angel seemed tense, his limbs completely rigid as he tried to compute his brother’s betrayal. A blurred outline leapt on to his shoulders – Dean. Hands were poking and prodding every available inch of the angel’s torso, causing Cas to contort and twitch, his features torn between puzzlement and a helpless smile.  
“G-GABRIEL IS ALSO- AHA, DEHEHEAN!” Loud laughter rang out clearly as the hunter spidered over his friend’s shoulder blades.

——–

“What about you, Kevlin? Ticklish?” The feeling of fingers creeping slowly towards his neck had Kevin whipping around to face The Trickster.  
“No. We are not having a tickle war, Gabe.”  
“Tickle War? I like the sound of that.”  
“No, no, don’t you get any ideas–HEY! MOJO IS CHEATING, LEMME GO-“  
“Let the tickle war commence!” Gabriel’s golden eyes twinkled as he uttered the phrase, his finger-snap barely audible in the shriek-filled library. A smirk crept onto his face as he waited for his family to react.  
The effect of the grace-powered tickles he’d sent out were almost instant. A symphony of giggles and shrieks immediately burst into life, mirth-tinted pleas providing an upbeat rhythym. The Archangel grinned at the chaos he’d caused.  
“BIH*HITCH!”  
“Ihihit’s not a whahahar ihif ihihit’s one sihidehed! ACK! NOHOT THEHEHEHERE!”  
“GAHAHABRIHEHEL, STAHAHAHAP!”  
“Looks like I’m winning this war.” He focused the tingling Grace on the worst spots of his friends, willing the electrifying sensations to seek out the most ticklish areas of each of his victims. The musical laughter reached a crescendo of screaming hysterics, tears of laughter twinkling in everyone’s faces. After several moments of unbridled giggling, the begging turned silent, and Gabriel was left with four oxygen-deprived humans. Reluctantly, he withdrew his mojo, making sure to leave a couple of ghost tickles haunting their skin.  
“Well, that was the most one-sided battle I’ve ever seen. Honestly, try a bit harder next time.”  
“Oohohoh, Gabe, you’re so asking for it.” Charlie crossed her arms, trying but failing to wipe the involuntary grin off her face.  
“Cool it, Red. I’m sure you don’t want to miss this?” He tilted his head towards the TV, which was paused on the opening credits of Harry Potter.  
“We’re still getting revenge later,” Dean conceded breathlessly, sitting up on the sofa and draping his arm over Cas’ slightly tense shoulder. The Prankster of the Batcave snorted.  
“Good luck with that.”


	2. "I swear it was like that when I found it!" - Ticklish!Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble from an ask meme. Some books fall down whilst Cas is searching the library, ruining Sam’s alphabetical arrangement. He is not amused, and decides to teach his angel a lesson. Includes Ticklish!Cas and Ticklish!Sam

Castiel hurriedly trailed a finger along the bookshelves, eyes scanning the words for the needed book. Sam had requested he retrieve the tome for information on a case - however, the text was proving more elusive than he’d anticipated. With an exasperated sigh, the angel moved on to the next aisle of books, but came to a screeching halt as he turned the corner.

“What…?” Cas gazed wide eyed as a copious amount of books began tumbling from their shelves for no apparent reason. At least thirty scriptures ended up in a large heap on the floor, crashing loudly against the concrete on their journey down. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Cas? Cas, you ok? Whoa. How did you- what-how?” The younger Winchester appeared at the bookshelf, eyeing Castiel and the bookpile with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement. 

“S-sam, I don’t know, it just-”

“What, did you pull out a book?”

“No, I swear it was like that when I found it!”

“Alright, just help me clean this up - who knows, we might even find that missing book.”

Roughly twenty minutes later, and all the lore books had been haphazardly shoved back in place. Sam glanced at the arrangement with disdain, before turning to Cas, a glint in his eye.

“You know, they were in alphabetical order.”

“I apologise, Sam, I didn’t-”

“That doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is you can’t just mess up my organisation and expect to get away with it.”

The angel gulped, stepping back slightly in fear.

“I-I helped you clean up!”

“Yeah, but I feel like you should learn from this experience, you know?” A well-placed poke to the side had Castiel flinching away with a squeak, eyes widening in realisation. He looked despairingly at Sam, who was grinning widely.

“S-sam, don’t.” 

“Don’t what, Cas?”

The seraph tilted his head in confusion - surely Sam was aware of the reason for his reactions.

“T-tickle me.”

In the instant those words left his lips, a wave of regret crashed into Castiel - how could he have been so stupid?

But there was no time to regret his words, because six foot four of tickle monster had come barrelling into him, sending him crashing to the floor.

“Tickle you? Gladly,” Sam’s voice held repressed laughter as he gripped his angel’s wrists and started pinching up and down Cas’ side with his free hand.

“N-nohoho, Sahaham!” Giggles had already started flowing from his lips, the angel unable to stop them.

“I can’t believe you fell for that old trick!” The hunter crowed triumphantly, hand moving to form a claw over his victim’s tummy, fingers wriggling wildly. He received a loud yelp in response, followed immediately by pure, bubbling laughter. Sam glanced down fondly at the squirming angel, whose head was thrown back, his eyes screwed shut whilst giggle poured from him.

“SAM! Stahahahahap! Plehehea-” Suddenly the laughter was cut off by a snort. The WInchester immediately started giggling at the noise, and paused the tickling - only so he could figure out how to cause another snort, though. Castiel flushed, hands aching to cover his face as he looked up at Sam.

“I-Ihi didn’t mean to do that,” He muttered, eyes flicking to the floor in embarrassment.

“Oho my gohod! Castiel, Angel of the Lord, Snorts?! This is too good,” Sam teased, fingers immediately springing back into motion as he attempted to produce a similar noise from the Angel. His fingertips dug into the area above Cas’ navel, and sure enough…

“Ahahaha-*snort* NO! Sahaha-*snort*-SAHAM!” 

The hunter, however, had already ceased the onslaught, too busy curled on the floor laughing to tickle anyone.

“Ihihi- ahaha, that’s too funny! You are never living this down, Cas!” Sam’s dimples stood out as he giggled at the blush on Cas’ face. The angel glowered at him as he stood, dusting off his trenchcoat.

“Are you ticklish, then?” He huffed, blush darkening at the use of the word.

Sam paused to look up at him, folding his arms as he shook his head.

“Nope.”

A head-tilt was the unnerving response.

“And if I were to ask Dean, he would agree?”

“Well, that’s hardly necessary, Cas, I wouldn’t-”

The angel set off towards the Winchester’s room at a brisk pace. Sam’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet, running after Cas as pleads flew from his mouth.

“No, no, CAS! Don’t ask Dean, he’ll kil-”

“Ask me what, Sammy?” Dean queried, a smile on his face as he strode into the Bunker’s lobby. 

“Sh*t.” The younger Winchester whispered. It was going to be a long day.


	3. "We're leaving. Now."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A LittleSis!Y/N drabble I did based on an ask meme. Y/N gets in a fight at a bar, and the Winchesters are not amused. After everyone’s safe, Sam decides that Y/N needs a bit of cheering up - warning for alcohol, violence, swearing, drunkenness, and descriptions of failed sexual assault attempts. Also includes a bit of Ticklish!Dean and Ticklish!Sam.
> 
> WARNING for mentions & descriptions of sexual harassment, and implied/referenced rape attempts.

“B*TCH!” Yet another fist came hurtling towards you. A sudden urge to roll your eyes came over you as you grabbed the balled-up hand and pushed it away with a huff. Apparently screaming derogatory terms was the only thing this drunkard was capable of. Your body swerved to avoid another blow as your angered opponent aimed another punch towards your face.

“Y/N!” A panicked voice rung out over the shouting of the people around you, and your head turned to see your brothers running towards you. With a swift kick to the groin, you sent your assailant to the ground, and jogged over to your siblings. The smile on your face vanished when you noticed their stern expressions.

“HEY!” Yelling suddenly drew your focus back over to your opponent, who was surrounded by his friends. One of them eyed you with disgust, and rose from the floor to storm towards you. You stretched your wrists and prepared for round two. He was going down-

“We are leaving. Now.” 

Your world spiralled around you as a hand roughly gripped your shoulder, the fingers digging harshly into your skin as someone yanked you around to face them - it was Dean. His eyes scanned you for injuries before he grabbed your wrist and began pulling you away from the scene, Sam close behind. Too overwhelmed to do much else, you followed the brothers blindly as they started tugging you towards the door.

Everything had been a blur of panic, colour and adrenaline. Minutes seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as the three of you fled the men from the bar - instinct overrode all else as feet slapped against concrete, the flat-out sprint barely tiring you as panic forced you to flee. Existence consisted of the gaps between tired breaths, of the split-seconds where neither of your feet were on the ground, when you were flying, if only for a moment. It wasn’t until you reached the Impala and pulled away from the sidewalk that things slowly came back into focus. Dean was swearing profusely, Sam glancing over his shoulder to glare at you from the shotgun seat. Words escaped your grasp as shock numbed you - it had all happened so fast, and your mind was only just catching up. All you could do was give vague “mhm’s” of acknowledgement in response, your body too busy recovering for you to stand up for yourself. After a couple of minutes of your brothers ranting, they realised they were getting nowhere, and let you recover in silence, the air between you tense as Dean drove, sunset approaching.

—————————————

“Alright, what the f*ck were you thinkin’?!” You winced at Dean’s tone as you stepped out of the car, shutting the door quietly and leaning against Baby with your arms folded. It was one of those nights where Dean had driven you off road to some cliff to drink beer and watch the sun go down - except this time, you weren’t sure if there would be much of either; the beer drinking or the sunset watching. A stray lock of hair blew over your forehead - you sent it back with a loud huff. 

“He started it.”

“Yeah well it doesn’t matter who started it - what matters is that you were too damn irresponsible to stay quiet. We leave you alone for ten minutes - ten minutes! And what do you do?! Start a friggin’ riot! Way to go!”

Suddenly your throat tightened with guilt as you remembered what had happened. You glared intently at the floor, and sniffed. That guy had tried to- bile rose in your throat at the very thought.

“You don’t understand-”

“Yeah, I do! I understand perfectly! You got yourself in trouble and we had to dive in to save your sorry a*s!”

“N-No-”

“Oh, that’s not it, huh?! How about you decided to beat up some guy because you felt like some attention?!”

“Dean, stop-” Sam had noticed the hurt in your eyes.

“No, can’t you see?! The witness was about to cough up!”

“BOTH OF YOU!” Tears threatened to spill over your eyes, but you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your siblings stopped to look at you, worry dotting their features for the first time.

“Look, I know I-I messed up the case, but I didn’t want to start a fight. But that guy-he was…h-he tried to…” Visions of that afternoon swarmed into your head, drowning out the buzz of the nearby crickets. Your breath quickened at the memory, and everything came crashing back to you at once…

——————————–

“Hey, beautiful.” The alcohol-laced voice had already put you on edge. You reluctantly glanced up from your soda to see the man, grinning in a way that immediately had your nerves on edge. Your legs tensed in case you needed to run. Eyes wide, you decided not to respond - maybe if you didn’t play ball, he’d grow bored.

A hand on your waist. The rancid stench of vodka as he breathed out heavily. That sick grin which would be embedded in your memory for the rest of your life. You knew what would happen if you didn’t put an end to it - the very concept set your blood boiling with fear.

“Get off of me,” You spoke clearly, firmly. The grip tightened, forcing your breaths to become shallow.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” 

That was it. Time to save yourself. You scrambled off the stool, the chair clattering to the floor as you pulled on the wrist holding you.

“Now listen here,” He punched you in the stomach, the blow knocking the breath from your chest but fortunately not leaving any lasting pain.

Things only escalated from there. Amongst the blur of skin, you managed to wrench his hand off of you. Perhaps the drink had weakened him - thus far, none of his touches had caused you physical pain. You shook out your arms, and hurled yourself towards him.

———————————

“Hey, hey,” Sam’s voice reached you. Your legs were weak, bent as you leaned against the Impala for support. 

“H-he was going to…if I didn’t stop him he would’ve…he put his hand on my waist…he called me beautiful…he was drunk,” The story flowed out as the lump in your throat subsided.

“Sh*t, oh sh*t,” Dean was pacing, his features pale and his eyes worried. Suddenly he turned to face you, eyes piercing as he searched you.

“You’re ok?”

You nodded shakily in response.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve - if anyone tries again, just say-”

“Dean,” You smiled weakly. “It’s fine. You didn’t know. Besides, He didn’t hurt me. I got lucky.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, too. For what I said in the car - God, I’m so stupid.”

“Oh shush, you two,” You attempted to brush it off, pulling yourself upright and opening the car, retrieving three beer bottles.

“Let’s just chill, ok? We can solve this case tomorrow morning,” Tossing a drink to each of your brothers, you slid onto the front of the impala, the front window serving as a backrest. Seconds later, Sam and Dean joined you, overlooking the falling sun, the three of you illuminated by its dying light. But you still felt horrible. Maybe Dean was right- you’d held them back today.

Sam leaned forward to study your features. He turned and placed his beer on the roof with a sigh, before poking you in the side.

“Hey, lighten up. You did great today, fending for yourself.”

You frowned.

“Stop frowning, you,” With a grin you recognised all too late, your older brother grabbed one of your wrists and started pinching your side, experienced fingers immediately targeting your sweet spots.

“Nahaha! Sahaham!” You twisted to face Dean, who was suddenly wearing a similar grin. Eyes wide, you shook your head at him through your laughter. Within seconds, your other wrist was pinned against the windscreen, and two hands were scribbling up and down your torso, the electricity from your nerve endings powering a smile that rivalled the disappearing sun. Those two always knew how to reduce you to hysterics in seconds.

“Woah, you’re still ticklish, sis? Guess girls don’t grow out of it,”

“SHUHUT UHUP, DEHEHAN!”

“Shut up?! How rude! You’ll pay for that,”

“NONONO IHI’M SOHORRY! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE! NOHO!”

“Hey, Dean, do you still think raspberries work on her?”

“NO NOHO PLEHEASE-”

“I dunno, Sammy. Let’s find out.”

“DOHOHON’T YOUOHO DAHAHARE!”

“3, 2, 1…”

“AAAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAAHA!” Tears of mirth dotted your eyes within seconds as you thrashed against your sibling’s hold, laughter going silent within seconds. It wasn’t until you were silently begging, tears streaming down your face, that they stopped.

You curled up on the car bonnet, breaths coming in giggly hiccups, a smile on your face that would surely linger for hours.

“Y-yohou ahare soho evihil!”

“Hey, we’re big brothers. It’s our job.”

“Y-yeheah?” You panted, rising onto all fours. “Wehell, i-it’s my job as little sister to get revenge on the eldest!” With a triumphant battle-cry, you tackled Dean, Sam immediately rushing to help you, the two of you laughing as you fulfilled your role as younger siblings.

Needless to say, you were going to get him next.


	4. "You spilt that everywhere. Who had to pick it up? Me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Reader insert drabble I wrote for an ask meme. After Crowley unexpectedly appears behind you, you drop your bowl of cereal. Annoyed, he zaps away the mess. However, your sass irritates him, and he decides to mess with you for a while before going back to help with the whole Lucifer situation (see season 12 of SPN).

“It was an accident!” You gestured despairingly at the cereal on the floor, looking up at the king of hell with annoyance. Why was he even allowed in the bunker, anyway? Sure, Lucifer was on the loose, but taking down the Bunker’s warding wasn’t the smartest move to make, what with Satan himself running rampant. Besides, you were only trying to eat your breakfast without disturbing anyone - you knew Dean and Sam needed space to figure out the situation - so it was hardly your fault that turning around to see Crowley in the kitchen doorway had caused you to jump and consequently send a considerable amount of cornflakes onto the floor. The demon in front of you snapped his fingers, the cornflakes vanishing. He scowled.

“You spilt that everywhere. Who had to pick it up? Me.”

“Well, technically you didn’t pick it up, just zapped it away-” You noted, smirking at your observation.

“Oh, you think this is funny?”

“Well, yeah. Instead of helping the Winchesters, you’re in here cleaning up after their 15 year old housemate. I’d hardly call that productive.” You snickered, mentally patting yourself on the back for two consecutive comebacks - to the king of hell, no less.

“Hmm, 15. So you’re still a kid.”

“Way to go, Sherlock.” Damn, you were on a roll today!

“Alrighty then,” Crowley started, ignoring you. “-I’d like you to say thank you.”

“What, for scaring the sh*t outta me? Cuz you did pretty well on that front, I’ll admit.” Boy, this was fun. If Gabe could see you now-

_What is that?_

A faint tingling sensation on your sides interrupted your train of thought. You folded your arms, trying not to twitch as you raised an eyebrow.

“What’re you gonna do? Electrocute me? I hardly think you’re going to earn Sam and Dean’s trust by-w-what are you doing?” The tingling had started zipping repeatedly up and down your sides, the sensation amplifying with each upstroke. Crowley smirked, and went to lean against the doorway as you sank to the ground, arms clutching your torso.

“Aha- No! R-reheally?! W-whahat are you, my uncle? Thihis is soho nohot cool! Stahahap!” Despite your best efforts, giggles were slipping through - and when the mojo found a sensitive spot on your sides, it immediately honed in on it, reducing you to a helpless laughing puddle on the floor.

“Now, say thank you.”

Just as you were about to refuse for the second time, a large burst of mojo zipped over almost all of your torso, eliciting a shriek. As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t last much longer.

“FIHIHINE, YOHOU JEHEHERK! THAHANKS A BUHUNCH!”

“I suppose that’ll have to do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m obliged to help Moose and Squirrel. See you around,” With that, Crowley strode swiftly from the room, his mojo fading the further he got from you. You rose shakily from the floor, scowling as you went to make another bowl of cereal.

_Demons._


	5. "Is that sass I hear?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Reader Insert drabble for an ask meme. Gabriel is being as irritating as ever - but after a quarrel breaks out, the archangel decides you could do with a slight attitude adjustment…

“Hey, kiddo. What’s poppin’?”

A grin crept onto your face as you placed your book aside, sliding it onto your bedside table before facing Gabriel, who was leaning against your bedroom door.

“I’m not a kiddo,”

“Yes you are,”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not- hey, no. We’re not doing this,” You folded your arms, annoyed by the trick.

“Are too!”

“Ugh, leave me alone!”

“You don’t want to be with me?! Kiddo, I’m hurt,” The Trickster fell back dramatically, a hand clutching his chest.

“What, you want a band-aid?” A smirk found your lips as you stood from your position on the bed. The comeback caused the Archangel to raise an eyebrow.

“Is that sass I hear?”

“Yikes, if you don’t know what I’m saying, you might wanna get a hearing check,” It was getting to the point where you had to suppress laughter at the situation. Gabriel folded his arms, eyes glinting with playfulness as he began stalking towards you. You gulped.

“How dare you! Do you know what happens to kids who sass the Trickster?” He questioned, mischief gleaming in his features. Stepping away from him carefully, you shrugged.

“I wouldn’t know - I’m not a kid.”

“Is that so?” Gabe smirked, before snapping his fingers and sending you flying backwards onto your bed without warning.

“What are you- sh*t!” Your protest was cut off as you felt faint sparks of mojo zipping over your torso, the sensations amplifying by the second.

“Whassa matter? Is the kid ticklish?” A sudden flare in the intensity of the grace caught you off-guard, and you squeaked, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to block out the tickling.

“N-no! Stahap!”

“Aha! You are! Brilliant. Now, I want you to repeat after me: I will not sass the Trickster,” With a positively evil grin, you watched as the Archangel stalked over and sat on the far end of the bed, poking your side. As his fingertip made contact, the Grace started rapidly tickling up and down your ribs, invisible fingers wriggling in the gaps between them. You shrieked with laughter, eyes screwing shut for a moment.

“Is it worse if I say tickle tickle?” Gabriel pondered aloud, causing your face to heat up.

“NAHAHA! PLEHEHEASE!”

“Tickle tickle,”

“THIHIS IS EHEHEVIHIL!”

“Stop being ridiculous – you deserved this. So, say it.”

“FIHIHINE!” You relented, a snort following your answer as an ethereal feather dipped into your navel.

“IHIHI WOHON’T SASS THE TRIHIHICKSTEHEHER! STAHAHAP!” Tears dotted your eyes as the feelings rapidly intensified before gradually fading, Gabriel smirking down at you.

“Eh, I’ll let you off the hook this time. But for the record, it’s ‘I will not’, not ‘I won’t’ – got it?” His eyes held a threatening twinkle that made you nod rapidly in response, too giggly to form any words.

“Just one more thing,” The angel grinned. “If you’re not a kid, then why are you ticklish?”

Your first instinct was to defend yourself – after all, you were pretty sure Gabriel was ticklish, which would make him a kid, too. But then an idea popped into your head.

Dean’ll kill me for this. A wicked grin crossed your features as you sat up, breaths still coming in rapid gasps.

“I could ahask the Winchesters the s-same thing,”

The light that crossesd Gabriel’s features at that moment was absolutely priceless.

“You mean Sammitch is ticklish?”

“B-both of them, as Hell,”

After a couple of seconds of grinning uncontrollably, the Archangel disappeared from sight, leaving you alone in your room once more.

“Ohhh, Samsquatch, where are you?~” The voice echoed through the Bunker and leaked through into your bedroom. Immediately, you scrambled from the safety of your room and flung open the door, sprinting down the hallways to go and help the Angel in his mischievous endeavours. As you turned the corner to enter the lobby, a panicked yelp sounded from the library. You grinned.

_This is gonna be great._


	6. "You're very endearing when you're half asleep."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N’s grumpy and half asleep. Cas helps to wake them up.

“Mmph,” You whined, squinting with disdain at the slosh of coffee that had just decided to leap out of your mug. Stupid coffee. Not bothering to clean the puddle off the table, you collapsed into the nearest chair, elbows resting on the table top to keep your head from falling.

“Hello, Y/N.” Castiel’s voice sounded from the doorway, sounding awake as ever. Friggin’ angels and their not needing to sleep. 

“M’tired,” Head collapsing onto the table, you lay limp in the chair, trying but failing to stifle a yawn.

“Ah. Well, Sam and Dean will be up soon.”

“I know,” Halfheartedly gesturing with one hand at the angel, you glanced at the coffee mug, which was now at eye level.

A period of awkward silence followed, broken only when Cas walked closer to the table and glanced at your limp frame.

“You’re very endearing when you’re half asleep.”

“Uhgh, what?” Your eyes flicked upward to see your friend sitting in the chair beside you, a slight smile on his features. 

“I said you’re very endearing when you’re half asleep.”

“No m’not,” With a disbelieving smile, you batted a hand at him.

“Your hair is dishevelled, it’s nice.” 

“Shhhush…if you’re quiet I might sleep.”

“Y/N, the table isn’t a good place to sleep. Wake up.” There was a hint of amusement in Cas’ tone as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Noo…”

“Y/N…”

“Go ‘way…I wanna sleep…”

“Fine. I suppose I’ll have to help.”

“Mm, whut?”

However, Castiel’s only answer appeared to be in the form of two fingers poking either side of your torso. Twitching slightly, you swatted his fingers away.

“Dohon’t…”

“…wake up, then.”

The shock of ten fingers wriggling mercilessly just above your hips sent your spine zipping into a straight line, arms flailing without direction as laughter forced you into consciousness.

“AHA! Cahahahassie!” You weren’t entirely sure why the nickname had slipped out. Perhaps it was the grogginess or the giggles - either way, the slight grin that graced your companion’s features didn’t go unnoticed.

“Awake now?”

“Plehehehahaha! Stahahap!” Both of the seraph’s hands flitted down to your stomach, skittering over your tummy and eliciting nothing short of a squeal from you.

“Heya, Cas-oh. Hah, you ok sis?” Sam’s amused question had you glancing at the doorway in frantic hysterics, legs kicking and twitching below your chair.

“SAHAhammy! Hehe’s kihihilihing mehe!”

“Well, he’s not doing a very good job,” With a positively evil grin, your brother proceeded to list all your bad spots, pausing only to place a book on the table.

“HEHEHEY!” Your face was burning with what could only be a blush as Cas targeted said spot, driving you into bright laughter that echoed around the vast expanse of the bunker. After what seemed like forever, the seraph relented, pulling away to smile fondly at you. 

“Awake now?,” He questioned.

“Yeah, thanks. Now I can get revenge easier.” And without a moment’s hesitation, you leapt towards Cas, startled laughter soon ringing through the Bunker again.

A confused Dean came into the room mere moments later. He was happy to help, of course.


	7. "But I want to hear you sing!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LittleSister!Reader. Y/N is alone in the bunker, singing along with the radio. However, when Sam gets back and hears her, he wants her to sing more. Y/N doesn’t want to, so her brother has to persuade her otherwise.

_♪Carry on my wayward son♪_

The opening notes blared from the small radio you’d placed on the table, guitar filling the vast expanse of empty war room. Your brothers had gone on a supply run, and wouldn’t be back for a good while. A grin crept onto your face as the guitar riff started - this song was great…you couldn’t not sing along, right?

So that’s why, when Sam stepped through the door of the bunker, he was greeted with the sight of you doing air guitar, lore book forgotten and chair knocked over as Kansas blared from the speakers, the lyrics flying from your mouth like it was second nature. At the sound of his footsteps, you halted, turning to see your sibling watching you with some amusement.

“S-Sam! I…-uh-”

“Don’t worry, you weren’t that out of tune.” He replied teasingly, long legs taking him swiftly down the stairs - once again, you lamented the fact that he’d been given the “tall” gene. You moved to turn off the radio.

“Hey, carry on, if you want.” Sam’s voice made you pause, hand half-outstretched on its way to the speakers.

“Well, I don’t wanna,” You huffed. You sang for one audience and one audience only: the empty bunker, Empty being the key word.

“But I wanna hear you sing,” He countered, batting your hand away and instead turning up the volume, keyboard scales echoing headily through the war room. The song had passed its halfway point, and now the main riff was in full swing, setting your heart aglow with the melody.

“Nope.”

“Aw, come on!”

“You’d have to force me!”

“Is that a challenge?” The hunter strode around the table, a worrying glint in his eye. Gulping, you took a couple of tentative steps backwards, your brother advancing towards you. Suddenly he shot out a hand and tweaked your side, eliciting a yelp - eyes wide, you froze.

“Don’t.”

This time, the tweak was more of a flutter, setting the nerves on your side alight as you flinched away with a squeak.

“Sam! No!” A squeal slipped from your lips as your brother grabbed you by the torso, arm pulling you up so you were hanging halfway over his shoulder. Ignoring your complaints, Sam wasted no time in reaching up and repeatedly pinching your side, sending you into a fit of frantic laughter.

“SAHAHAMMY! PLEHEHEASE!” You shouted through your giggles, unable to squirm much in the tight grip you older sibling had you in.

“If you agree to sing before the song ends, then I’ll stop.” Without warning, Sam switched to pinching gently at your tummy, sending you into uncontrollable giggles.

“Ahahahaha! Sahahahammy!” It was horrible, being unable to do anything but hang limp as your older brother attacked each of your weak spots with devastating accuracy, fingers wreaking havoc on your laughing frame.

“I can’t believe you’re still ticklish!” He teased, fingers digging into your ribs and warranting a shriek.

“Shuhuhuhut uhup!” You thumped a fist on his back in retaliation, and payed for it with a sharp taser on the side. By now, the song had launched into another chorus, only a minute remaining.

“You sure you don’t want to sing before it’s finished? I could keep this up all day…”

“NAHAHA! Fihihine, Ihi gihihihive!” Reluctantly, you yelled surrender, and waited as Sam stopped tickling to put you down again.

“O-one: never do that again, and t-two: I hahate you,” An accusatory finger pointing at your sibling, you turned to face the radio, and started singing the words, trying to ignore your slight breathlessness and the fact that you had an audience.

_♪Carry on, you will always remember♪_

_♪Carry on, nothing equals the splendor♪_

_♪Now your life’s no longer empty,♪_

“Surely heaven waits for you! Carry on my wayward son…” The lyrics carried you along, and it wasn’t until the guitar faded out that you realised it had finished. You turned to Sam, scowling at the grin he had on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing, just - you sing that song well.”

“Shut up,”

A loud bang as the door shut caught your attention, and you turned to see Dean, overloaded with grocery bags at the top of the stairs.

“Dude! You were supposed to help me with these.”

“Sorry, Dean. He was too busy murdering me,” Arms folded, you glanced at Sam, who of course looked only remotely guilty.

“Hey, I was only tickling you!” He retorted, poking you and earning a small squeak. You glanced at Dean, who was now at the bottom of the stairs, grinning like the cheshire cat.

“What was that? You still ticklish, sis?”

“N-no, don’t get any ideas- SAM!” Trapped once more, you realised it would be a good while before you’d be able to get any sort of payback on Sam. As Dean strode towards you, your mind was already thinking about how to get revenge. After all, pain-in-the-a*s big brothers need a dose of their own medicine at some point.


	8. "If you steal the blankets, I'll put my cold feet on you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N has a nightmare, so she goes to her brother’’s room. But when Dean starts fidgeting, she takes matters into her own hands. Dean isn’t amused, and decides to teach her a lesson.

“I-uh-Dean?” You stood in the doorway, one arm resting on the frame as you blinked away sleep. The vague shadowy lump in the bedding shifted, and you squinted to see your brother leaning against the headrest.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“…I can’t sleep.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Those nightmares had left you sure you wouldn’t be falling into slumber again anytime soon.

“Uh, alright? Do you- just come sit down.”

Stepping tentatively into the room, you sat on the bed, turning sideways to face Dean.

“You ok?” 

“Yeah. Had any leads on the case?” It was always easier to just say you were okay. You knew Dean didn’t like talking.

“Sammy said he found something - we’ll check it in the morning.”

“Ok.” Slowly, you lay down, pulling yourself under the blankets and staying with your arms folded. A brief silence followed, before Dean interrupted.

“You could have just said you’d had a nightmare, you know.”

“Whatever.”

“C’mere.” You turned to see your brother with his arm outstretched, and shuffled closer.

“If you steal the blankets, I’ll put my cold feet on you,” You warned, thinking back to multiple incidents where you’d ended up lying in the cold thanks to Dean Winchester, also known as the world’s worst Fidget.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Suddenly the warm bedding was ripped brutally away, causing a gasp to rush out. 

“D-dean!” With an amused huff, you wrestled your way back under the blankets, deliberately lifting your legs up so your icy feet rested on Dean’s stomach. 

“Holy Sh*t!” You felt your sibling flinch away, followed by a hand reaching down and grabbing one of your ankles.

“Son of a b*tch! You’re gonna pay for that,” Dean pushed your foot away, still gripping it like a vice as you giggled at his reaction. However, the feeling of one finger slowly trailing up your sole caused you to squeak.

“Dehean! No!” 

“Dean, yes! You come into my room, and put your icy feet on me! You gotta pay!” Now scribbling lightly over your arch, his fingers picked up the pace, making you throw your head back and giggle childishly.

“Dehhehean! Plehehease!” The bedcovers were now unwanted, only getting in your way as you squirmed.

“Please what? Carry on? Gladly.” You could hear the evil older brother smirk in his voice, and shook your head in response. Out of the blue, the fingertips moved to wriggle under your toes, and you had to grab a pillow to shriek into, worried your laughing would wake Sam up.

“Stahahaha!” Pleas muffled by the fabric, you kicked your free leg slightly, trying to distract yourself from the feelings coursing through your nervous system at such an ungodly hour. 

“Right, if you apologise, I’ll stop. If not, then I guess you’ll wake up Sammy with your laughing. And he won’t be pleased,”

The thought of both of your brothers tickling you to tears brought back flashes of your childhood - of wrestling matches in motel rooms, and play-fights on the roof of the impala. Fear tried to force its way in with thoughts of the nightmare…but you couldn’t remember it. The nerves that had previously compelled you to go to Dean’s room in the first place had disappeared. Instead, it was just you and Dean, having a stupid tickle fight at who knows when in the morning and arguing over whether he was a blanket-hog. Hysterics continued to flow from your mouth, volume increasing despite your best efforts.

“Dehehehe!”

“Do we have to wake up Sammy, then?”

“Nahahahaha!” A zing of anticipation flicked up your spine - Sam would most definitely help Dean if you woke him up. The painstaking choice between surrender and complete decimation loomed over you, and when one of Dean’s fingers worked its way between your toes, your resolve snapped.

“Fihihihihine! Ihihi’m sohohorry!” Seconds later, your foot was released - tossing the pillow aside, you rubbed at the tingling nerves gingerly.

“You better be.” Dean warned playfully, reaching over and tweaking your side for good measure. You twitched, and snuggled closer to him.

“You’re suhuch a jerk,” A residual giggle slipped into your words, the pair of you lapsing into silence as your sibling reached down and tousled your hair.

“G’night,” He muttered. You smiled.

“G’night, Dean.”

There were no more bad dreams that night.


	9. "It's three in the morning"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features LittleSister!Reader. Dean and Sam say Netflix marathons shouldn’t last until the morning, but you beg to differ.

“We’re not watching another one, Y/N!”

“Pleeeeease?”

“No! It’s three in the morning!”

“But I’m not tired!”

“Dean- help me out here!” Sam ran a hand through his hair, sitting back on the couch to seek support from your brother.

“What can I say?” He smirked, swirling the last drop of beer around in its bottle as he spoke. “She’s not wrong. They’re good…but…”

“But what?” You prompted, bending down from the cushions to deposit your empty popcorn bowl on the floor. The three of you had spent more than a healthy amount of time marathoning Game of Thrones - if asked why, you’d would point to Charlie - but Sam was attempting to bring the night to a close.

“We should probably call it. We’ve got a case tomorrow.” Dean reasoned, your face contorting into a frown as he did so.

“So?” You snorted, pulling the abundance of blankets strewn across the sofa closer.

“So, I don’t want you napping in the Wendigo lair, sleepyhead.”

“It was one time-”

“Doesn’t matter. My point is, you’re gonna randomly conk out if you don’t sleep tonight.”

“Technically it’s early morning-”

“Don’t change the subject!” Sam cut in, giving you a knowing look. You just laughed.

“I’m not tired though!”

“‘I’m not tired!’ What are you? Five?!” Dean mimicked.

“Yeah.” You giggled, lobbing a pillow at Dean’s head. It hit his face, and he scowled at you.

“Alright,” Sam relented, grinning somewhat. “You wanna be a kid? We’ll treat you like a kid.” With that, you found yourself being tackled by six-foot-four of plaid; you yelped, taken by surprise. You tried to fight back, but within a couple of seconds, Sam had managed to gain the advantage, keeping you trapped against the arm of the couch. Not giving you a chance to protest, he wriggled his fingers into your sides, causing you to kick out in protest.

“S-Sam!”

“Yes?”

“Stop!”

No reaction. Instead, your older brother turned to Dean.

“Hey, you wanna help? She needs tiring out.”

“I dohohon’t need- DEAN!” You cried out as Dean lunged his hands towards your ribs before drawing back at the last second, eliciting an embarrassing shriek and a series of giggles you’d never admit to producing. Both of your siblings targeted your worst spots ruthlessly, with the experience only years of experience could bring. Sam’s hands had moved to pinch lightly around your stomach, whilst Dean had managed to snake his fingers under your arms, driving you halfway to insanity.

“Ahahaha! ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I GIHIHIHIVE!” It was annoying to hand Sam and Dean their victory so quickly, but you weren’t sure how much more of their tickling you could take. Much to your relief, they pulled back, ruffling your hair despite your scowling.

“Ihi’m not talking to you.”

“You just did.” Sam teased, giving you a final poke to the side. You glared at him.

“Whatever. I’m bringing your laptop on our case though. I will not abandon Netflix for a Wendigo.”

“Sure, if Sam lets you get near the damn thing. Now go to bed.” Dean had started clearing the empty bowls and bottles away - his back was to you, but you could sense the smug grin seeping off of him.

“Ugh, fine.”

“‘Night.” Sam smiled as you clambered off the couch, headed to bed. Tomorrow’s case would be about as exciting as a milk-run, but at least your brothers would be there to keep you company.


End file.
